


what's new pussycat?

by orphan_account



Category: Park Avenue Summer - Renée Rosen
Genre: F/F, Some Questionable Office Shenanigans, fiction&femslashevent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	what's new pussycat?

Helen and Alice were both working late at the office tonight. The steady stream of typewriter keys clicking served as an ambience for Alice, whose thoughts were restless and murky. She allowed her gaze to wander a bit, drinking in the sight of Helen in her office.

Snapped pencils and crumpled papers littered the editor’s desk, all telltale signs of frustration. At the centre of it all sat Helen, biting the eraser of a pencil. Her eyes roamed over the manuscript in front of her, brow quirked as if displeased with what she saw. Alice hid a smile and turned back to her typewriter, continuing to type away at impressive speeds.

“How you holding up, pussycat?” As always, Helen’s voice was a mere whisper. It was like the rustling of paper in the wind, soothing and calm.

Alice pulled the sheet of paper from the mouth of the typewriter and rose from her seat to hand it to Helen. “I’m fine. Here’s that list of writers you wanted.”

Helen took it with a sweet smile. “Thank you.” Her tone lacked finality, so Alice hovered, awaiting further instructions. Sometimes Helen talked to her when it was late in the night, gave advice, and rambled about nothing at all. Alice lived for those moments.

“I miss David,” Helen said, confirming Alice’s suspicions and causing her stomach to plunge unpleasantly. Alice had never really liked Helen’s husband. David was kind and patient and good-looking, which made her dislike him all the more— but Alice was even better than him when it came to taking care of Helen.

“What’s wrong?” Alice settled onto the leopard-print chaise, alert and ready to listen. “Would you like me to call him for you?”

Helen kept smiling, but her dark eyes had a heavy kind of sadness to them. “You’re a doll for offering, but no. He’s just been distant lately, even though he’s always a phone call away. It sounds silly, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Alice said immediately. “No, not at all. I feel that way all the time with my father sometimes. You’re well-justified.” She clamped her mouth shut. The last time they’d talked about anything personal about Alice had been when she’d been seeing Erik Masterson.

“Your father?” Helen tilted her head at her, looking thoughtful. “Tell me about him.”

Alice found herself laughing but it came out nervous-sounding. “There’s not really much to tell.” He’d married some stranger just a few years after her mother died. That same woman had transformed her childhood home into something stylish but unrecognisable. Gone was her mother’s electric-blue mixer on the counter, crayon drawings on the fridge, and that god-ugly plaid couch they’d watch television from.

“He didn’t want me to go to New York,” she said finally. “He said I wasn’t meant to become a photographer. Still says that, actually.”

Helen nodded solemnly. “Is it because you’re a woman?”

“I was engaged,” Alice told her. “To a man named Michael. We were supposed to get married, settle down, and have a family together. He’s married some other woman of course, and I’ve heard they’re expecting a child soon.” She stared at the memo board behind Helen, not really reading what the notes say.

“I’m so sorry, pussycat. But aren’t you glad you’re here? A young girl like yourself, beautiful and intelligent and talented, with so much potential? Would you really have been happy staying in the same town all your life?”

“I don’t know,” Alice said, when she meant to actually say ‘yes.’ Helen frowned, looking rather disappointed with this response. She rose from her seat, stretching her arms behind her gracefully. As Helen did so, the back of her dress rode up to expose a great deal of creamy white skin. Alice pretended not to notice.

“How are things with that Don Juan of yours?”

Don Juan was what she called Erik Masterson, likely because she couldn’t be bothered to remember his name. Alice couldn’t recall the last time she saw him, except when he’d asked her to marry her one drunk night at her doorstep like a lunatic. They barely knew each other and Alice knew that things with him would end poorly, were she to accept his proposal.

“Well, he asked me to marry him, so we’re not on speaking terms anymore.”

“Golly. That must have been quite a shock, huh?” Helen balanced a fresh cigarette in between her teeth, searching around her desk for a lighter. Alice spotted it behind a picture frame and lit the cigarette for Helen. Her fingers nearly brushed against the older woman’s lips and she blushed despite herself.

“It sure was. I think maybe I should just stop fooling around with men. You know, I tried to take your advice about sleeping with them but I don’t know, it’s not for me.”

“Sleep with women, then,” Helen said conversationally, as if she were recommending a good restaurant or bar.

Alice’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. She must have misheard Helen, because there was no possible explanation for what she had just said. Homosexuality was wrong, not to mention unfashionable. “I beg your pardon?” Alice was most of all horrified at the spark of excitement within her at this because she liked men, not women... right?

“Pussycat, you know I’m not fond of repeating myself when I don’t need to.” Helen sighed, then looked alarmed. “Oh, I do hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable. Oh dear.” She took a long drag off her cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray, even though it was fresh out of the carton.

Alice pressed her eyes shut, trying to rein herself in. “I’m fine, just need a moment.” She was the farthest possible thing from fine, not that she’d tell Helen that.

“Forget what I said, if you’re not open to it. Perhaps it’s best we forget this conversation entirely.”

“I’m not  _ not _ open to it,” Alice blurted. Helen gave her an incredulous stare, clearly wanting her to elaborate on what she just said. “Crap. I meant that, that it’s never really occurred to me to try it... but gosh, now that you mention it, I’m not entirely opposed to it-- I suppose.” She cringed, her face unpleasantly hot now. “And I’ll stop talking now.”

“No.” Helen leaned forward, eyes gleaming with avid interest. “Keep talking, pussycat. If you could sleep with any woman, who would it be? A celebrity, someone you know, anyone.” Alice knew that this discussion had crossed the boundaries of professionalism but then again, there weren’t any lines that Helen hadn’t already crossed with her.

“I’m not particularly fond of celebrities,” Alice replied. “I very much prefer people I’m familiar with. I know what they like having for breakfast, how they take their coffee, how many rooms their childhood home had— you don’t get any of that from a press interview.”

“So who?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Darling, there must be at least one you’re certain about. Not necessarily a woman you want to marry, just sleep with. What’s her name?”

Alice bit her lip, averting her gaze from creamy skin of Helen’s neck, the sweep of her brown curls just over her shoulders. “No one.” 

She’d thought Helen would give up after that but no— the woman was relentless. If anything, her resistance made Helen all the more determined to coerce an answer out of her. 

“Who is it, doll?” Helen took an unlit cigarette between two fingers, playing with it before setting it down again. “I’m very good at telling when people are lying to me. I’m even better at telling when you’re lying to me.” She stood up, leaned over the desk so that she was towering over Alice, despite her small stature. At the close proximity to Helen, the warmth of her body and the sweetness of her perfume, Alice’s heart caught in her throat. 

Then Helen was kissing her. Or Alice was kissing Helen. Alice couldn’t tell the difference and wasn’t particularly in the mood to ponder it when Helen tasted of smoke and coffee, the older woman’s weight pressing into her. Helen’s breaths were heavy as she fumbled to undo the buttons on Alice’s blouse. When her hand met bare skin, Alice groaned and shrugged out of the gauzy silk before helping Helen with her own clothing.

Helen’s dress had all kinds of hooks and eyes running down the back of the dress that frustrated Alice to no end. With a great deal of sighing— eventually, finally— it was off and Alice was free to look and kiss and inhale as she pleased. Alice was inexperienced, as her trysts with Erik had been infrequent. Needless to say, this was much different than laying down and simply taking it. Alice wondered if it was enough for them to both want each other.


End file.
